Bound Curves

By Georgia Stockholm

Asher finally has the man of her dreams. Or does he have her? Asher comes clean about the text from Helen, and as she’d halfway hoped and feared, Dylan’s forgiveness comes with a price tag. The brutal, soul-shattering punishment and make-up sex isn’t the problem; it’s the meeting that Dylan suggests Asher have with Helen to finally clear the air.

Dylan’s dark secrets come to light, and Asher finds herself wondering just how deep she wants to descend into this new world of erotic pain and submission.

BBW Erotic Romance Novelette: 15,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gulliver Noir
• Release date: Mar 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311437150

Georgia Stockholm

I was a tomboy until I was 12.I hated pink, anything girly. I refused to wear skirts and dresses, and I played exclusively with boys. The day I talked my mother into letting me get a crew cut was the happiest day of my young life. At puberty, though, something shifted inside. I still liked boys, but I knew I wasn’t one.As I grew, I fell in love with fashion, costume, things pretty, and things dangerous. I’m still more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt than heels and makeup, but there is a time and a place for everything.I’ve always loved to read. I devoured literary classics during the day, while at night, I curled up in my bed under the covers with a flash light devouring every genre imaginable, ending up bleary eyed and unable to focus in class. I was a crummy student.Writing has been my lifelong dream, and great good fortune has afforded me the opportunity to devote myself to it full time, at least for awhile. I really hope you enjoy my work as much as I enjoy writing it.

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BOOK 3: INFINITE CURVES

Bound Curves

By Georgia Stockholm

Bound Curves

Copyright © 2014 by Georgia Georgia Stockholm

Published by Georgia Stockholm at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2014 by Georgia Stockholm.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Author's Note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

A DATE TO REMEMBER

YOU’RE GOING BACK OUT TONIGHT? MY father frowned at me over the Wall Street Journal.

I swallowed another bite of cornbread, chasing it with a sip of milk. I’d come home because I’d told Dylan I would—after I’d lied to him about getting the text from his ex. I’d said Dad expected me for dinner.

So here I was.

I reached for another square of cornbread. My stomach was a little jumpy, but still the bread was so much better than Dad’s Awful Chili.

My father folded the WSJ, which had become his constant mealtime companion since Mom’s death. His bowl of chili was only half-eaten, but he’d lost interest.

Seeing that young man again?

He meant Dylan, who had vanished this morning without meeting him, leaving his underwear and socks behind like a lizard shedding its tail.

I nodded yes, wanting desperately to slink back to my room.

You feeling well?

I nodded again. I’m fine.

You look a little peaked.

I flashed my warmest, most innocent smile, feeling vaguely unclean. I’d just had the most erotic experience of my life. I’d been spanked, well and truly spanked, not a few slaps during doggy-style sex, but a long, brutal, unrelenting ordeal dealt out by a guy I’d had a crush on since I was sixteen years old.

The experience had been terrifying, thrilling, fulfilling and confusing all at once. And I knew, it was just the beginning, or at at least, I hoped it was. Maybe.

I wiped my mouth, gathered the dishes and bustled into the kitchen, which was a shambles; Dad’s cleaners came once a week and between visits the place got ugly. I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher and quickly wiped down the counters.

I became aware of him watching me, standing in the arched entrance to the kitchen as I washed my hands and dried them on a paper towel.

You’re sure you’re all right?

I’m fine. I gave him a quick hug, shocked at the bony feel of his shoulder blades through his shirt. How much weight had he lost since Mom’s death?

He chuckled. That’s my girl.

Backing out his embrace I brushed against the wall, sending a twinge through my backside. Dylan had said there’d be bruises. Oddly, the deep ache made me feel… what?

Warm inside. Taken care of? It was like he was here with me in some small way. I shook the thought away. It felt a little nuts.

I’m making biscuits and gravy for breakfast tomorrow, Dad said. With some of those sausages your sister sent. The smoked ones from Virginia.

Sounds great. What was I saying? I was planning on being with Dylan tonight. I didn’t want to get up early and drive home for Sunday breakfast with my father. That was ridiculous.

He took off his thick, horn-rim glasses and cleaned them on a shirttail, looking a little lost.

Yeah. I was coming back for biscuits.

Don’t wait up. And let me sleep in, OK? I said. I’ll be at the table by nine.

He nodded. I guess that’s acceptable. This boy of yours. Is he treating you right?

I coughed. My parents had never talked about this kind of thing. I’d learned the messy feminine facts of life from my older sisterers, and about sex in high